


harder and stronger

by charleybradburies



Series: a dead man's undeath [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Complicated Relationships, Conversations, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Drinking, Drinking & Talking, Gen, House Stark, I Was Drunk When I Wrote This, Immortality, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Late Night Conversations, Major Character Injury, Major Character Undeath, Minor Theon Greyjoy/Sansa Stark, Minor Tormund Giantsbane/Jon Snow, Not Canon Compliant, Season/Series 08, Short, Short One Shot, Theon-centric, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, What is Dead May Never Die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 19:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20051149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charleybradburies/pseuds/charleybradburies
Summary: Jon and Theon bond on the trip south. [Tumblr.]





	harder and stronger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shannonissatan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shannonissatan/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Raised by Wolves, Stronger than Fear](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18737677) by [charleybradburies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/charleybradburies/pseuds/charleybradburies). 

Theon takes a swig of the milk, wincing at its strength and unfamiliarity. Tormund would chuckle and make Jon smile at it, but Jon just barely holds his tongue. Theon had winced half the day as they rode, and he and Jon had promised Sansa they'd be good to each other, so Jon is doing his best to fulfill that particular promise, seeing as it's the primary one that he knows himself capable of fulfilling. Theon had saved Sansa, ultimately, when she'd stoked the courage to run within him, and been willing and expecting to die for Bran, and Jon was nothing if not just about as privy as Theon to his sister-cousin's intentions. 

Theon's expression sobers as he stretches his hand out to place Tormund's skin back into Jon's grasp, though surely his head is farther from sober than it was a moment before. Jon almost thinks he'll make some comment about how Jon's not grown out of his moping, but that Theon isn't the one who meets his eyes.

"Does it always hurt?" he asks, his voice no louder than the fire crackling nearby, and his eyes upon Jon's as though they'd reveal his meaning without any motion. 

Jon knows his meaning, and for that, he sighs, directing his attention to his chest. It didn't feel quite so much like a conglomeration of holes, anymore, with siblings and friends and answers seeming to fill some of the space inside him. 

"No, but...I know your situation is different than mine. Mine, it was...my men, and then a priestess raised me, and I honestly..." he trails off, and Theon nods, as though he's said something substantive.

"I don't know, either," Theon says, and then pauses. "Arya says everything should heal, and Sansa thinks it's the work of the Drowned God that I'm even alive, but I don't know how that'd be. The Seven have more a place in the North than he, anyway."

He's still soft, genuine, though his eyes look haunted still.

"You're a Greyjoy, and you're a Stark. And I suppose....what's somehow dead might never die." 

Jon cuts his remark with a drink of the milk, and a wonder as to when he'd gotten used to it enough to drink it without Tormund near. Was it nostalgia, desire, or comfort? He wasn't sure, but he does still note the pain in the eyes he can currently see.

Having waited a few moments in his own tension, Theon gives a slight chuckle, and then sobers again, pulling his cloak around himself, one from Sansa's hands, that matched Jon's own, closely resembling that of Lord Stark. Theon's keeper, and Jon's uncle. It's still strange to attempt to think of him as such, and perhaps Jon never truly will. 

"I think I'll head in soon," Theon says, looking to Jon, still, as though for permission. Jon holds back a chuckle again, but for the wonder of whether the arrogance of Theon's youth had so wholly been eviscerated by the deeper details of Ramsay's tortures.

"You don't owe me explanation for your every action, Theon," Jon says, as softly as he can manage. Theon's eyes widen, considering that, seemingly with fear, but he stands, nodding gently.

"Many, though," he says, trembling from what Jon doesn't deign to imagine is the cold. 

"Good night, Jon."

"Good night, Theon." 

Theon nods again, and heads off to his own tent, and Jon wonders if the old Theon had known it when he'd died and rose again, a different, harder and stronger, man.


End file.
